After I Walked Away from His Heart, He Finally Understands What He Lost!

As my asthma attack took hold, Lucian Hayes remained at the ballroom's center, entwined with his secretary, laughing softly against her cheek. 

Even as I struggled for breath, slipping toward the edge of consciousness, he didn’t falter, lost in their whispered exchanges.

On the drive home, I stumbled upon a diamond ring in the glove compartment. 

Before I could utter a word, Lucian snatched it from my hand, his expression darkening.

“It’s not meant for you,” he muttered coldly.

I nodded and pointed toward a bridal shop just ahead. 

“Pull over,” I said calmly. 

It felt like the right time to return the custom-made wedding dress. 

——

As I stepped inside, Lucian followed me out of the car, tossing a woman’s jacket in my face. 

“Savannah, you really need to break this habit of leaving things behind,” he snapped.

Lucian had an obsession with cleanliness and never allowed any of my belongings to linger in his car. 

I glanced at the jacket lying on the ground and replied coolly, “That’s not mine.” 

His expression softened, and he picked it up without hesitation. 

I recognized it as Ophelia Hawke's jacket. Every time she left something behind, it seemed to ignite yet another one of our endless, heated arguments.

This time, I held my tongue and simply turned to the shop assistant to give her my phone number. 

With an enthusiastic grin, she exclaimed, “What great timing! Your custom wedding dress and suit are ready for fitting.”

Before I could protest, Lucian, still fuming, had already entered the dressing room, his demeanor cold.

Ten minutes later, I stood in front of him, clad in a wedding dress. 

He shot me a glance, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

“Tacky.”

I didn’t argue; instead, I asked the shop assistant to snap a picture for me. 

Lucian’s expression shifted to one of impatience, and just as he was about to wrap his arm around me for a couple's shot, his phone rang.

It was the ringtone he had assigned to Ophelia. 

With tears in her voice, she lamented the loss of her favorite jacket, promising that if a kind soul returned it, she would pledge her unwavering loyalty to them until death.

Once the call ended, Lucian walked off without a glance back, still in his clothes from earlier. 

As the sound of his car faded into the night, I grabbed a pair of scissors and viciously shredded the wedding dress without a second thought. 

At one-thirty in the morning, while I was packing up my belongings, a text from Lucian buzzed in: [Out drinking.]

After eight years together, it was uncommon for him to voluntarily share his whereabouts with me. 

As I glanced at the cleaning gloves on my hands, I chose not to respond. Once I finished tidying up, I took a long, hot shower and slipped into bed. 

The next day, when Lucian returned home, I was on my way out to take the trash. His gaze felt peculiar as he studied me.

“Is your phone broken?” He asked, furrowing his brow instinctively when I shook my head. I knew what he was getting at. 

In the past, whenever he stayed out late, I would bombard him with calls and texts. 

But last night, his phone had been eerily silent. Just as I was about to step outside, Lucian inquired, “Savannah, where did our photo on the wall go?”

I looked at the garbage bag, poised to reveal the truth, when his phone buzzed. 

Pushing past me, he hit the voice message button, saying, “Don’t worry, kiddo; I’ll get it to you as soon as it’s ready,” as he walked inside. 

The sound of the shower running reached my ears as I made my way downstairs to dispose of the trash. 

On my return upstairs, I felt a sudden wave of weakness. I had hypoglycemia.

Cold sweat trickled down my back as I returned home and grabbed the egg and toast from the table. 

Just as I took my first bite, Lucian's scornful voice echoed in the room. “Savannah, were you born starving?” 

I watched in disbelief as he tossed the half-eaten toast and plate into the trash. 

“I’ve cooked for you for eight years. Can’t I have just one bite of the breakfast you made because I was having a low-blood-sugar episode?” I asked, my voice flat. 

His expression hardened as he retorted, “You lack manners. Taking without asking is stealing.” 

He donned his suit and slammed the door behind him. 

Struck by Lucian's fresh wave of cold cruelty, I instinctively picked up my phone and opened his WhatsApp.

I caught sight of his new background photo, featuring Ophelia in cat ears, pouting playfully. I liked it with a flick of my thumb and unpinned his chat from the top of my list.